Copyright 2017 Art of Living, Prima Media,Inc/Maria Liberati
Besides the lazy, hazy feeling summer brings, my favorite memories of Summer are the fresh tomatoes that Mother Nature brings to the season..they add so much flavor and color… But now, alas,as Summer is winding down, so will the fresh tomatoes.. Food is poetry for the body , and poetry is food for the soul.
My Ode to the fresh tomatoes of Summer was inspired by the luscious fresh tomatoes that appear every summer. Tomatoes are sheer poetry at your table:
Ode to the Fresh Tomatoes of Summer
How do I love thee
Let me count the ways
I love thee to the depth and breadth of my palate
A perfect creation from the brain to the palate from the palate to the fingers end
I love thee from every nook and cranny of my ‘cucina’ that you infuse with your perfume
Your fragrance is so heavenly it brings a passion to my day
I love thee for your red beauty when ripe..a color, so vivid it needs no light to bring light to my day
I love thee for a juice so sweet..every drop dances on my tongue and in my mouth
My stomach, practically begs, in anticipation, for my mouth to release this nectar so that it too can have the pleasure…. of your elixir
Here’s more and recipes from the beach house http://www.themortonreport.com/home-away/food/fresh-peppers-with-beer-and-frittata-or-lunch-at-a-beach-house-in-italy
My favorite tomato poetry is this one by Pablo Neruda
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it’s time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.
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